


The Loophole

by ariadnes_string



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Gen, Origin Story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-02
Updated: 2015-05-02
Packaged: 2018-03-26 17:58:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3859519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariadnes_string/pseuds/ariadnes_string
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every dog has an origin story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Loophole

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sanguinity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanguinity/gifts).



> Thanks for giving me the chance to write about Carolyn, sanguinity! I hope you enjoy this, and it isn't too (literally) fluffy!

It was Carolyn’s firm belief that there was no point in being a twice-divorced lady of a certain age unless you could have exactly what you wanted. Thus, she had turned GERTI into MJN Air. Thus, she had decorated her house with the warm spice tones Gordon had loathed. Thus, she had steak for dinner twice a week.

And thus, she decided, she would get a dog.

Even as a little girl, she had wanted a dog. But her mother had had a horror of animals shedding on the carpet, and Ruth had claimed to have terrible allergies, though Carolyn had never seen any evidence of them. When she’d mentioned the idea to her first husband, he’d offered to buy one of the Staffordshire terrier pups the man down the lane bred for fighting, and Carolyn had demurred. Gordon’s views on dogs didn’t bear repetition in polite company. 

But now that she and Arthur were on their own, nothing stood in the way of her possessing the canine companion of her dreams—a creature that would, when she got home at the end of a long day of trying to keep both GERTI and MJN aloft, neither ask her a series of ridiculous questions, as Arthur, bless his heart, was wont to do, nor lecture her on responsible business practices, as her accountant was in the habit of doing whenever he could get her on the phone. A dog would merely offer its noble head for affectionate stroking, while gazing at her lovingly with soulful eyes.

The only question was: where was this perfect dog to be found?

+

“All right, then, where’s the emergency?” Douglas looked around the cabin suspiciously. “And where’s Arthur?” he asked, as if Arthur might _be_ the emergency, which, Carolyn had to admit, did sometimes happen.

“Arthur,” Carolyn told him, “has gone horseback riding with Bunny or Pookey or whatever her name is. And we are going to LLanbedr.”

“ _Gesundheit_ ,” said Douglas. 

“Llanbedr is an airport. In Wales.”

“Is it now? And there I thought you had some phlegm caught in your throat. But why? What could there possibly be in Llanbedr? Other than rain, gloomy Welsh people, and a lot of morose sheep. I was on my day off, you know. With my beautiful new wife.” 

He paused for effect, but Carolyn had no time for the concupiscence of pilots. “Well it’s a good thing I’ve called you away, then. Wouldn’t want you to strain anything. A man of your age.” 

“Pot, meet kettle,” said Douglas under his breath. 

“What’s that?”

“I _said_ , Helena and I were thinking of going away next Bank Holiday weekend. Somewhere romantic. Somewhere that might repair the damage done to our relationship by my leaving her side to fly _you_ to the gloomy countryside.”

Carolyn made a disgusted sound. “Don’t think you can blackmail me, Douglas Richardson. But—well—If you can get me to LLanbedr by half past four, I’ll see what I can do about the weekend.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Douglas said, with his Cheshire Cat smile. “What’s in LLanbedr anyway?”

“Never you mind. I don’t pay you to know that kind of thing. I pay you to drive, excuse me, _fly_ the aeroplane.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Douglas said again, though in a less satisfied tone.

Still, Carolyn realized, she needed to tell _someone_. “If you must know—“

“No. No, I’ve changed my mind. Not interested.”

“There’s a very reputable breeder of Pomeranians quite close to the LLanbedr airport.”

“What? Those tiny, fluffy dogs? They’ve found a way to distinguish them from the sheep, have they?”

“And there’s one bitch left of a very promising litter—“

“Carolyn, language!”

“A female dog, Douglas. Princess Poppyseed Beausoleil the Third, to be exact. And if I can arrive to collect her by 6pm today, she’s mine.” 

Douglas raised his eyes from the instrument panel and blinked at her. “Hang on. Hang on. Are you telling me that we’re flying to the backside of nowhere so that you can get a _cute little puppy_?”

“Yes.”

“You. An adorable, bouncy puppy with a wet nose and a wiggly tail and a tendency to wee on the carpet. You.”

“Yes. You wish to comment on this?”

“No. No, not at all. What could there possible be to say?”

+

LLanbedr Airport was all that Douglas had predicted and more. The air was as damp as an old dishtowel, and a preternatural dusk had fallen, as if Wales was determined to be darker than other places. The same man managed the airfield and worked the ATC.

“William Williams,” he introduced himself as they made their way into the low-slung building that constituted the airport. “Welcome to glorious Snowdonia. Have you come for the hill walking? Or for the majestic views?” His round face looked more worried than the situation required, and his dark comb over was disarranged.

“All lovely, I’m sure, but no,” Carolyn told him. Mountains were all very well, for other people. “As soon as I freshen up we’ll need a taxi to Llanbeg, we have forty-five minutes to make an appointment.”

His face fell. “You’ll be wanting the Ladies, then?” 

“Yes,” said Carolyn warily. She knew Wales was primitive, but surely not this primitive.

“I—well I’m afraid it’s not available just now.”

“Plumbing?” asked Douglas, arching an eyebrow.

“Erm, no. We, well we’re having a bit of an animal control problem.”

“Vermin?” Douglas gave Carolyn a significant look.

“Oh no—nothing like that. Or, no, not rats or anything. It’s more like—Well, never mind. I’ve sent Davey in to deal with it—“

As if on cue, a hideous noise erupted from the direction of the ladies’ toilets, a high-pitched yelping followed by a low, terrifying growl. 

“Goodness,” said Carolyn. “That sounds like a—“

“And that,” said Douglas, “must be Davey,” as a heavy-set young man stumbled backwards out of the loo, brandishing a broom at his unseen enemy.

“I’m sorry Mr. Williams,” Davey gasped. “It’s too fierce for me. It's got the strength of something ten times its size. It’s like to take off my fingers, it is. You should see it jump. And the teeth—

Mr. Williams turned stern. “Get a hold of yourself, man. I want you to march back in there and—“

But before he could detail what it was he wanted Davey to do, a surprisingly small dirty-white ball of fur darted out of the open Ladies’ door, dashed across the floor of the airport, and hid under the combination ticket table and tourist information desk, where it recommenced its shrill symphony of yaps and growls.

“It’s a dog,” Carolyn said, aghast, as it poked its head out from under the desk. Matted, grayish fur overhung its eyes and it had quite a significant underbite. As if sensing her gaze, it cocked an ear in her direction and whined. 

“That's a dog,” said Douglas, “in the way a hurricane is a nice, refreshing rain shower.”

“Aye,” said Mr. Williams, “I suppose it is. Nasty, flea-bitten creature. Been hanging around the airfield for months, stealing trash and frightening customers. Don’t know what possessed it to come inside today. But don’t you worry.” He put a hand on Carolyn’s shoulder steering her towards the exit. “We’ll have it all taken care of by the time you get back from LLanbeg. Ah, here’s Robbie now.”

The dog drew its head back under the desk and made a low sound in its throat, as Robbie, who looked like he could’ve been Davey’s brother, entered the building, a can of Mace in one hand, and a shotgun slung over the other shoulder. 

“Oh no,” Carolyn said.

“Don’t worry—he has a license,” said Mr. Williams.

But it wasn’t that. It was the traitorous sympathy unfurling in her heart for the cornered beast. Carolyn tried to focus her mind on Princess Poppyseed, her dainty features and her perfectly groomed coat. But it was no good. All she could think of was the uncared for, unloved creature under the desk. If the world treated it so badly, how could it react but with fury?

“Douglas,” she demanded, “do something!”

“About what?”

“Don’t be stupid. About the dog. We can’t let them shoot it.” 

“Oh, we’re not going to shoot it. Only scare it a bit. Probably,” said Mr. Williams.

“Yes, because using a shotgun _inside_ an airport is always a safe and effective means of persuasion,” said Douglas, then turned his attention back to Carolyn. “I suppose we could help bring it to the animal shelter.”

“No.” Carolyn took a deep breath, then released it. “No. I have a crate all set up on GERTI. We’ll take her home.” In her mind, the creature had most definitely become a she.

“Carolyn.” Douglas dropped his sarcastic sneer for a moment. “Are you sure? What about Princess Poppycock?”

Carolyn nodded, though her pulse was racing. “Yes. Yes, I'm sure. Princess Poppy _seed_ will find a deserving home somewhere else. _Can_ you do it?”

Douglas assumed what she had learned to recognize as his scheming face—learned the hard way, but she couldn’t worry about that now. “Yes. Yes, I think I can. Though it will take some doing. And be quite exhausting. The kind of effort from which a man would need a Bank Holiday weekend to recover.”

“All right, all right, you can have your bloody weekend. Now what do you need to capture that dog?”

“Let's see: I’ll need the asbestos gloves from on top of the microwave, the net that was left behind when we took those anglers to Scotland last month, and a piece of cheese.”

+

“I must admit,” said Carolyn, once they were in the air again, heading back to Fitton. “That was truly remarkable.”

“I suppose it was, rather,” said Douglas, without even a hint of modesty.

Carolyn didn’t mind. She was still giddy from her impulsive acquisition. “I mean, the way you got down on all fours, and looked her in the eye.”

“Mmm.”

“The way you growled right back at her—it was like you were speaking her language.”

“Mmm.”

“And then biting her on the ear. Well, that really seemed to do the trick.”

“The things you learn at Air England, eh?” said Douglas, but didn’t elaborate. “Pity about Robbie’s face, though.”

“A few stitches and he'll be good as new.” Carolyn made an effort to rein herself in. She was, she realized, sounding a bit like Arthur. “What I mean to say, is, well: thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I shall bask in my glory through my entire long weekend with Helena. I just hope you know what you’re getting yourself into. That pup looks like a tough customer.”

“Oh, we’ll be fine,” Carolyn said, and at that moment, there wasn’t a doubt in her mind that they would be.

“You don’t think Arthur will be disappointed about Princess Ovaltine?”

“Poppycock. I mean Poppyseed—you’ve got me doing it, too, now. And anyway no, because I didn’t tell him. I thought it would make a nice surprise.”

“Oh, indeed. Because what boy wouldn't welcome a feral Welsh hairball into his family?”

“Shut up, Douglas,” said Carolyn, but without heat, as she went to check on the dog.

They had left their new canine companion in the deluxe portable kennel that Carolyn had purchased for the erstwhile Pomeranian. Thus, Carolyn experienced a moment of sheer panic when she found the door of the kennel swinging open and its interior empty. 

“Snookums,” she called. “Babycakes. Where have you got to? Come to mummy.”

Almost immediately, and her intense relief, however, she saw the dog, albeit three feet higher off the ground than she’d expected, ensconced on the galley counter amid the remains of the cheese tray. Regarding her over the Camembert, the dog made a noise somewhere between a growl and a snuffle, a sort of _wuff_. This close, Carolyn could see that her eyes, behind the scraggly fur, were as black as berries and very intelligent. She wiggled her whiskers conspiratorially, and Carolyn’s heart melted all over again.

“Well, aren’t you a clever girl, unlatching the crate and climbing all the way up there?”

The dog _wuffed_ again, as if in agreement, and nibbled delicately at the expensive cheese.

Carolyn gazed at her adoringly. “I know life has shown you some hard knocks so far. But believe me, from this point forward, it’s going to start treating you like a queen.” She put her hand out cautiously for the dog to sniff. When it was accepted, she scratched very gently behind her ears where the fur was surprisingly soft. The dog made a growly gurgle of pleasure. “A good shampoo, perhaps some dental work, and you'll be a beauty. And never you mind about all those other silly dogs with their silly pedigrees. We’re all strays here at MJN Air.”

+

“Mum,” said Arthur, when he opened the passenger door to stow his riding helmet in the back seat. “I think someone’s left their wig behind. Or perhaps it’s a very old wooly jumper. Or—ouch! I didn’t know jumpers came with teeth!

“Arthur, dear heart,” said Carolyn. “I want you to meet our new dog, Snoopadoop.”

“Aw,” said Arthur around the hurt finger in his mouth. “I think she’s brilliant.”

**Author's Note:**

> There's no evidence either way in canon, but I decided Snoopadoop appeared on the scene before Martin. And I'm sure actual small airports in Wales are nothing like this one.


End file.
